


Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye

by Gixxer_Pilot



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gixxer_Pilot/pseuds/Gixxer_Pilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know what your problem is, Jim? You don't respect the chair.” He does now, thank you very much. ***Into Darkness spoilers***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Star Trek: Into Darkness. My thoughts on the film can be summed up in one simple sentence: Gix was not impressed. It was a cluster for me, from start to finish. From the weak and recycled plot to the completely off base characterizations to the giant, gaping plot holes left over at the end, I felt incredibly let down by a crew that had four years between films to figure this stuff out. It just seemed wrong to me, introducing a slew of new fans to 'Trek (which is always a good thing in my book) to the franchise with something so subpar and all around egregiously out of character.
> 
> But disappointment is a great motivator, and I was writing literally the moment I returned from the theatre. Admittedly, I'm still wondering if this story's premise toes the line of cheesy but I really did like the interactions between characters and dialogue that came of it once I completed the story. I think it boiled down to the fact that I believed there was so much there in terms of character development to offer the audience that wasn't used advantageously (or indeed at all). This is my little offering of an attempt at fixing it. Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, Bones? Got a minute?"

McCoy sighed and looked up from his paperwork. "Not particularly, no. But seeing as I stood over your dead irradiated body little more than three weeks ago, I think I can make some time. I need a break anyway. What do you want, Jim?"

Kirk fidgeted uncharacteristically in the doctor's doorway, words caught in his throat.

"Well, goddammit man, spit it out! I don't have all day! I've got the brass and their merry band of salivating assholes jumping down my throat at every chance they get because they're wondering what kind of miracle cure brought you back from the dead and I, for one, am  _not_  willing to tell them shit. Bunch of classless, unethical idiots who don't know their asses from their elbows. They'd probably managed to find a way to fuck up a cure for death by takin' out a world or two while they were at it-" McCoy ranted, hands waving theatrically about his face, in the seconds before his brain caught up with his mouth. He stopped, dropped his hands and swiped his fingertips across tired eyes. Through his hand, he drawled out, "Ah, shit. I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that you, Pike, all of this-it's gettin' to all of us, you know?"

"I hear ya, Bones," Kirk breathed out. He motioned towards the general living space that made up the CMO's quarters, now nothing more than a burned out hulk of a certifiable disaster area after the fight with the Vengeance. "Permission to enter?"

The doctor lifted a small mountain of PADDs from the coffee table, hesitated for a brief second, muttered a quiet, ' _Aw, fuck it_ ,' and then dropped the entire lot unceremoniously on the floor behind him. Waving a hand in Jim's direction, he replied, "Granted, though a part of me can't believe you're actually asking to come in instead of just inviting yourself. All that time in purgatory or wherever the hell you went while you were comin' back from the dead musta' drilled some manners into your thick skull."

Kirk chuckled, noting the molasses-thick accent rolling off McCoy's tongue. Drawl that heavy meant one of two things: Bones was drunk, or he was exhausted. It only took Jim one quick glance at his friend's lined face and drooping eyelids to discern the latter was the right answer. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he lifted his left foot and said, "Nice to know you haven't lost that famous acerbic wit of yours, doctor."

"And I'm glad to see you haven't lost your idiot complex. Now get your scrawny ass in here and close that damned door. Don't need to be givin' the whole ship a show," he half-ordered, watching as Kirk picked his way over and around the smashed furniture and broken personal items that were littering what was left of the CMO's quarters.

"Maybe next time, Bones. I'm not really up to that kind of thing yet," Jim finally said with a weak waggle of his eyebrows, the smirk missing much of its characteristic Kirk charm.

"And yet here you are," McCoy answered as he took in Kirk's equally haggard appearance.

"You ever going to clean up in here?" Jim asked, shifting the topic smoothy as he rooted around and through the various piles McCoy made of his demolished personal belongings.

McCoy snorted. "What's the point? This ship needs a complete retrofit. Figured I'd let someone else make themselves useful and do it for me. God only knows it's the only privilege of my rank. Besides, there's nothing left in here I want anyway," he added softly.

Jim toed through the charred remains of McCoy's desk, noting the stack of PADDs fused to the console and the small pile of fried holocubes still sitting on Bones' counter. He cringed, knowing what kind of work the doctor kept on them. Looking up, Kirk pointed to the PADDs and asked, "How much did you lose?"

"All of it," McCoy replied with a heavy sigh. "Years of research, articles I was working on."

Jim plucked one of the holos from the counter and attempted to turn it on. It flickered, sputtered and then died. "Bones, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "If I could do it over again, I would have-"

The doctor cut Jim off with a quick wave of his hand, closing his eyes as memories of Kirk's still body pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. "Don't, Jim. They don't matter. It's just research. Nothing that can't be done again." Bones stopped, stared at Jim and sighed. He couldn't do this, couldn't have  _that_  conversation right now. He'd done well enough holding it together for the sake of the rest of the crew during the two weeks Kirk was unconscious, but he was too tired, too hopped up on stim shots and coffee and too on edge after losing his best friend to think clearly enough to talk about the emotional ramifications Jim's death and miraculous resurrection.

Thankfully, Kirk seemed to get the message. He nodded silently and all but collapsed onto the plush chair opposite McCoy.

Bones regarded his best friend carefully. In a lighter tone, he told Jim, "Now, not even a week outta your sickbed - against my better judgement mind you - and you're already invading my personal space. Must be mighty important that you feel it can't wait."

"You know me so well," Kirk quipped, interlacing his fingers as he leaned his forearms on his knees.

After years as Jim's Kirk's best friend, confidant, and the man who sewed his dumb ass back together while cursing a blue streak, Len could read Jim's mood simply by looking at his body language. Head down, shoulders hunched, eyebrows pinched together right above his nose. The last time he'd seen that kind of apprehension was...

...Right after the Narada. Right after he told Kirk Pike might not live, and if he did live, he may never walk again. Right after he told Jim that his mentor's career was almost certainly over, if not his life. Right before he found the golden fucking horseshoe of cures, right before he realized in that one instance, he'd rather be lucky than good.

He wished some of that luck had leaked over to this crisis.  _Chris._

McCoy pursed his lips, pushed himself off the couch and padded silently to the liquor cabinet stationed in the corner of the room. Opening the door, he pulled out a bottle of Kentucky's finest bourbon and two glasses. He made his way back to the couch, dropped the booze on the table and poured two healthy glasses. Handing one wordlessly to Kirk, he nudged the younger man when Jim didn't automatically reach up to accept the glass. "Thank God this survived. Here. Take it. Doctor's orders."

"Thanks," Kirk replied, if only out of habit. He took a sip of the smooth liquid and nodded his head. "This is pretty good, Bones. Really good, actually. A lot better than that paint thinner you normally drink."

The doctor swallowed audibly. "It was from Chris," he admitted, forcing himself to raise his eyes to meet his captain's. "He gave me a case when the Fleet cleared him for active duty. Guess he thought he'd never walk again and wanted to thank me. Still not sure what I did." He paused, sighing heavily. "Seemed appropriate now, and you looked like you could use it."

"You always know," Kirk replied, echoing his earlier reply.

Alarm bells started firing in McCoy's head. Kirk's clear distraction was disconcerting, incongruous to a man who was the consummate observer. Schooling his face to keep the open shock from leaking its was out, he answered, "Most of the time." The doctor took a long pull from his own tumbler, leaned back into the soft cushions and closed his eyes. "Helluva month."

"Yeah," Kirk agreed quietly as he took another sip.

McCoy swirled the drink around his glass and let the silence coat the room for a couple of long minutes. He leaned forward, refilled his glass and propped one bare foot up on the coffee table. "Now as much as I love your company, I know you didn't come here just for a drink and to stare at the walls. What can I do for you, Jim?" he asked earnestly, his tone surprisingly gentle and without its normal stinging barbs of sarcasm.

"Have any of your patients ever talked to you about their...experiences?" Kirk blurted out before he could stop himself. "You know, being dead, or knowing they were about to buy the farm?"

"Experiences?" McCoy questioned. "As in angels and trumpets and pearly gates? That kind of hocus pocus?"

"Yeah, like that. Kind of."

"Kind of?" McCoy's right eyebrow lifted gracefully from its parade rest spot while he said, "Jim, I'm a doctor, not a mind reader. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders here. I'm going to need more than that."

The captain shook his head and jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "You know what, forget it. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Doctor. I should go," Kirk, flustered, nearly babbled in a rush. He set his tumbler on the table, hopping from the chair as he practically fled the room.

"Oh, no," McCoy began, vaulting off the couch as he placed himself between Kirk and the door to his quarters as he mentally kicked his own verbal insensitively. "Jim, that came out wrong. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Kirk looked down at McCoy's arm and then back up to the man's face. He started blankly ahead but didn't make any more to leave the room. Shaking his head, he said, "It wasn't you, Bones. It never is, tact or no." Lifting his eyes to search the various patterns of scorch marks on McCoy's ceiling, he exhaled a hard breath and added, "God, I feel ridiculous."

The doctor cursed quietly under his breath. He laid one hand Kirk's bicep and the other his chest while he looked the younger man in the eyes. Jim might try to deny it, but the ashen pallor and rapid breathing were not all attributable to his most recent brush with death. Searching Kirk's face, McCoy damned his own hypocrisy straight to hell, narrowed his eyes and said, "You came here to talk and I'm not letting you leave until you do."

"And I'm telling you I'm not ready," Jim replied, his tone firm bordering just on the right side of defiant.

McCoy increased the tension on Kirk's bicep and physically pushed back on his chest. "Jim, hear me out. I don't have to tell you that you've been through an awful damned lot in the past three weeks, more than any man has an expectation to withstand," McCoy took a breath when Kirk didn't move. "Now if you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you. But I'm telling you as your physician and more importantly your damned fool friend that you need to talk. If not to me, then to someone else. You're the captain, and we need you."

"I'm not the captain anymore, Bones. I'm just-I don't even know what I am." Jim felt the shaky, heart pounding adrenaline rush fade from his body. He hated when McCoy was right (which was, sadly, often) but he couldn't keep up the pretense of anger, not when Bones' words hit so close to home. He sank down back to the safety of McCoy's living room furniture and put his head in his hands.

McCoy laid one brotherly hand on Jim's shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he resumed his seated position. He sat forward, and as Kirk had done earlier, interlaced his fingers and rested his forearms on his knees. With his hair shorter than it had been during the Narada debacle, it no longer flopped in front of his face after he'd showered and he found himself almost missing the distraction of moving it back into place. It gave his hands something to do. Instead, he settled for a deep breath, steeling himself before he admitted, "I try not to think about the afterlife. Means I'd be dead in order to see it."

"Does that scare you, Bones? Death?"

"Hell, yes it does. God only knows why I signed up for five years on this flying deathtrap with all you adrenaline junkies when I'm terrified of dying." McCoy paused, poured himself another drink and lifted it to his lips. He bobbed his eyebrows up and down and added almost casually, "Not that you'd-," cutting himself off as quickly as the sentence tumbled from his lips.

"What was that, Bones?"

McCoy shifted in his chair, uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just my mouth gettin' ahead of my brain again."

Kirk's head snapped up. He titled his head to the side, his brain filling in the likely end of McCoy's statement. His facial expression went from surprise to defiance, touched on anger for a moment before it finally settled somewhere between embarrassment and agreement. "You know, about a month ago, you'd have been right about that."

"And now?"

"And now," Kirk answered, trailing off as he searched for the right words. Fixing his best friend with a self-deprecating smile, Jim replied, "And now I think there's a really good chance you're wrong. You'd be surprised what being dead does for your ego."

"You care to enlighten me?"

"I don't know if I can really explain it. It's a little...odd," Kirk began.

"Try," McCoy replied.

"I had this really weird dream. Or at least I think it was a dream." When McCoy simply tilted his head, Kirk took a long breath and continued. "It sounds so lame, but I swear I had a heart to heart with Pike. Except I know that's not possible because he's dead, and I don't believe in supernatural bullshit like that. Or at least I thought I didn't. But I also didn't believe Marcus was a raving lunatic, or that he'd decide to thaw a super soldier popsicle for shits and giggles."

McCoy blinked. Once, then twice. "Wow," he said, his tone clipped but succinct. Raising his hand, he rubbed his temples in small circles with his fingertips, willing the ever present headache to dissipate.

Jim bent his neck forward and hunched his shoulders. Curious eyes regarded his best friend. "I know I was rambling, but Bones? Tell me what's going on in that brilliant head of yours."

"Goddamned déjà vu," McCoy said with a shake of his head, almost as if he was trying to shake off the incongruence of the statement with the person who said it. "It's just that - aw hell, I don't even know how to say this." He leaned back on the couch and put his arms behind his head. "Still, I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, with you bein' like Pike and all. Half the time, I was convinced that you two shared a set of chromosomes, with how you acted like one another."

Jim was incredulous. "What? You lost me."

"I could have the JAG up my ass for what I'm about to tell you because I'm about to break doctor/patient confidentiality." McCoy tilted his head back and forth, like he was mentally weighing pros and cons. He licked his lips and continued with, "But fuck 'em. I suppose I could make one more exception in a lifetime of exceptions for you. I don't think Chris would mind. The answer to your question, the one you asked about the afterlife - it's yes."

Jim's eyes lifted to the ceiling of the CMO's quarters as he processed the information, the dots sliding together in his head for form a solid picture. "Pike? Pike was the one who asked you the same question?"

"Not exactly the same question, but similar enough in circumstance. Either way, damned eerie, ain't it?" McCoy settled on the couch and stretched out his entire frame. "Tell me about yours."

Jim toed off his boots (he was well aware of the 'no footwear on the table' rule in McCoy's quarters) and plopped his socked feet on the table. He stared up at the ceiling and started off, "It was right after I'd crawled back to the access door for the warp core..."

* * *

**Next Up** : Jim learns how strange the human mind really is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *requisite spoiler warning* Here begins my humble quest to plug a small handful of the million plotholes Into Failure gave us. When I wasn't laughing in my seat during IF's climactic scene between an OOC Jim and an ever more OOC Spock (Spock CRYING? COME ON!), I was wondering just how the hell I was expected to believe Kirk survived his trip to the reactor core in which he both kicked the parts back together and somehow crawled back out. The writers are old enough to have heard of a little thing called Chernobyl and how horribly the firefighters and plant workers suffered before they finally died. It made sense for Spock to be the sacrificial lamb of sorts in Wrath of Khan, given his Vulcan genetics. But in IF, we have Jim making the climb because...Chris Pine is awesome?
> 
> And then there is the matter of Spock's unsolicited mind meld on Pike, Kirk acting like he needed his safety blanket right before he died, Carol Marcus being utterly pointless, the omission of Christine Chapel, McCoy being relegated to the role of comedy backup when he's really the heart and soul of the ship AND the fact that Kirk and Spock don't really even like each other so why are they so emotional over one another-You know what, I'm just going to stop now before I start swearing again. I've already given myself enough headaches with this freaking movie. Here's chapter 2.

 

**Chapter 2**

He was scared.

He was trying not to show it, but Jim finally understood the true meaning of fear, even if it was terrifying the living hell out of him.

It was odd; Kirk had tangled with death so many times in his young life that it seemed strange that  _now_ , that  _this_  time was the instance his brain decided to activate the cortex that controlled trepidation. It wasn't that he afraid of death itself - far from it. If he'd been afraid of death, he would have never punched Scotty in the face and then taken the suicide climb into the radioactive sea that was the ship's warp core all by his lonesome, and he sure as hell wouldn't have been able to keep his composure long enough to complete the task at hand.

No, Kirk was afraid that even though he'd finally cast his ego, immaturity and selfishness aside, it wasn't going to be enough to save his crew.

His friends.

His  _family_.

But he'd done it. Somehow, he managed to realign the warp core and restore power to the ship. All that was left to do was crawl back out of the irradiated wasteland that powered his ship and wait quietly for death to knock at his door. He didn't expect to find an audience when he returned, however.

Great. Just fucking great.

Quite frankly, it was kind of pissing him off, acting like a blabbering teenager in front of Spock. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't control his emotions; everything in his body felt strange, like it was buzzing. He could taste a strange metallic tang coating the back of his throat, and he was fairly certain his vision was failing. He'd lost count of how many times he'd thrown up on the torturous crawl through out of the core and through the Jefferies tubes. Belatedly, he felt badly for the engineer who'd have to clean it up. Breathing was becoming an exercise in futility, his entire body felt swollen and bloated, and he could have sworn that his sense of smell was completely gone.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim recognized his body was shutting down, knew that it was a direct result of the radiation exposure as the invisible atoms literally liquified him from the inside out. But he couldn't summon the courage to care about the science of his assured death. All he knew was that he was stuck on the inside of his glass fishbowl, and that Spock was on the outside looking in.

He was going to die. This was how his life was going to end.

' _Wow. That's kind of lame_.'

And then, just as abruptly as the gnawing bites of panic and anxiety crawled through that pit in his stomach, they disappeared. The faces of Spock and Scotty faded away, the cold deck plating digging into his hip and elbow vanished. He didn't feel lightheaded or nauseous, and his vision snapped sharply back into focus.

Jim looked around. He wasn't in engineering, near the warp core anymore. He wasn't even on the Enterprise. Kirk's eyes surveyed his new space. He knew this place. It was his old dorm room, the one he shared with Bones, back at the Academy. Everything was the same, from the posters on the wall to McCoy's poorly hidden bourbon shoved on the shelf next to his bed. Kirk's dirty underwear were balled up, soaking wet and floating in the sink, probably left there by an irritated and cursing McCoy when Bones came home to find them under his pillow.

But wait. This wasn't right. He was a captain, Pike was dead and he was chasing Khan to very edge of Klingon space. Marcus was dead, and God only knew what happened to the seventy-two crew members nestled in those 'special' torpedoes.

Right?

Kirk thought again. He knew all these things as fact. He felt it, every single emotion. Never again did Jim want to experience the kind of raw anguish that coursed through his body when his eyes came to rest on Pike's still form. The feeling of helplessness and despair was compounded near Qo'noS during the time on the confiscated ship. Listening to Spock bluntly put words to the feelings running through Pike's mind in the final, fleeting moments of his life was agonizing. It made his blood boil and his vision go red. Was he dreaming?

"You're not dreaming, son."

Kirk whirled around. He could have sworn the room was empty when he walked through the door - wait, did he walk through the door? He couldn't remember. "Admiral?" he squeaked as he recognized the smooth tones and familiar face of Christopher Pike.

Pike, seated comfortably on Kirk's bed, bowed his head. Dressed casually in a pair of worn blue jeans and faded t-shirt, the latter covered by a black leather motorcycle jacket, he couldn't have looked farther from the respected and revered Starfleet admiral. But his eyes were sharp and his gaze just as penetrating as he visually followed Jim about the room. Shifting, Chris made a concerted effort to relax his posture just a notch. Dialing back some of natural aura of authority, he replied with a sardonic twitch of his left eyebrow, "In the flesh. Sort of."

"What is this?" Kirk asked suspiciously as he watched Pike stand smoothly from the bed, unaided and without the ever-present limp, and walk across the room to McCoy's desk. Jim's eyes just about popped from his head. "What's going on here? You can't do that - there were days you could barely walk with the cane, let alone unaided."

Pike parked himself on the edge and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "A lot of things change when you're dead, Jim."

Jim sank down onto his bed as reality sunk in. "So we are dead then?"

Pike nodded. "Well, I am. You know that. You? I'm not sure. I don't control these things," he said with an irritated sideways glare.

"Kind of figured as much, even if I can't say I'm pleased about it. This sucks, being dead," Jim shifted on the bed and held up one hand. "You know, whoever said death was all about white lights and half naked angels was full of shit, especially if this is all I get."

Pike snorted out loud. "I'm sorry to disappoint you with the lack of welcoming party, Kirk. You want to lodge a formal protest?"

"Nah. Probably wise not to rock the boat just yet."

"Smart move," Pike replied, punctuating his statement with a flat, "For once."

Jim returned his mentor's coy gaze while he stood. "Funny, sir." Kirk wandered around, testing the door (creaking like it always had) before he stole a swig of McCoy's bourbon (awful, just like he remembered). "Do you know what's going on, Admiral?"

Pike pursed his lips and waved a hand. "There's no rank here, Jim. It's just Chris."

"And where is  _here_ , exactly?" Jim asked, motioning to his dorm room with his hands.

"It's wherever you want it to be. In this case, your dorm, though God only knows why you chose to come here," Pike finished with a grimace, lifting his hand off something sticky and slightly repugnant. He reached across the desk and grabbed a tissue out of the dispenser, wiped his hands with it and tossed it in the recycler. "I don't want to know what that was. Some things are better left to ignorance," he muttered under his breath while he glared at Jim.

Happily oblivious (or just plain ignoring his senior officer), Kirk sniffed the air, relishing the familiar scents of stale booze, sweat, and replicated popcorn. He pulled out his desk chair and sat down on it, feeling it lean to the left just a bit as it always had. He threw one arm over the backrest and said, "I liked it here. It was the first place I felt at home."

"Clearly," Chris agreed, noting the very lived-in feel of the room. His eyes bounced around, no doubt noting the dozen or so contraband violations visible in plain sight. He fixed Kirk with a pointed stare and added, "I don't think we did enough surprise room checks on this place, son."

"That is not all my fault!" Kirk insisted. "Bones might try to tell you this is all on me, but that man is the messiest person I have ever met. He was always, 'Dammit, Jim! I had that in order and you have to go messin' it all up!'," Jim said, doing a fairly good impression of McCoy's mannerisms and accent. "Except his idea of 'order' means shoved in a random place that makes no sense, which means that no one can find it but him. I don't know how he finds  _anything_  in that medical bay of his. It's like a giant 3D puzzle, man."

"I'm sure the good doctor would beg to differ," Chris laughed out.

"Well, he's not here to defend himself, so he'll have to deal with it." Kirk stopped, his face going from lighthearted needling to stony and serious. His eyes flicked back and forth as apprehension warred with his face before he asked, "Wait. He's not here, is he? Bones? Nothing happened to him?"

Pike shook his head. "No, Doctor McCoy is not here."

Kirk let out a long, relieved breath. "Good. Tell me - do you know how he is? Is he...okay?"

"I don't know, son. I wish I did. But knowing how close you two were, I'd bet the answer to the last part of your questions is a resounding 'no'."

Kirk leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I hadn't done this to him, you know? He might bitch a lot, but he's a good guy, a good friend. Loyal, caring. Much better than I deserved. I should have told him that," Jim finished with a deep sigh.

"I think there are a lot of things left regrettably unsaid. I'm a pretty good example of that," Pike admitted quietly, head bowed and hands clasped in his lap. "Take you and McCoy for example. I thought the two of you would either murder each other or wash out within the first semester at the Academy. You for fighting, him for drinking."

Jim scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Nice to know you had so much faith."

"It's not that I didn't have faith, Jim. Of course I did. But over the years, I also learned to be realistic while hoping for the best outcome," Pike insisted, shifting in his seat. "Still, that didn't mean you two didn't test my every last nerve on a daily basis."

"We did do that," Kirk admitted, mentally rehashing every single thing he and Bones ever did to earn Pike's wrath. "A lot."

"Kirk, look. The reason I fought so hard for the two of you was because I knew you guys needed one another to survive. I think if you'd had years to develop a friendship, you and Spock would have gotten along fabulously. But you and McCoy were like two peas in a pod from the word go. Mismatched peas, but it worked so well."

"Yeah, we were," Kirk said sadly as he looked down at the floor. He pursed his lips and added, "He's probably pretty crushed down there, I'll bet."

"Yes, as is all of your crew. I'm sure they're feeling a lot of the same things you felt when you saw me at headquarters during Khan's ambush."

Kirk grimaced, feeling his face redden in embarrassment. "You saw that?"

"No," Pike replied. "But like McCoy, I don't have to see it to know."

Kirk hopped up from the chair and paced the length of the tiny room, guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach. "Dammit! Why did this happen?"

"Because you care about your friends more than you care about yourself. You always have, but you didn't know how to show it in the right way," Pike replied without skipping a beat. He stood, met Jim in the middle of the room and put his hand on Kirk's chest. He waited for Jim's eyes to meet his own before he smiled from the corner of his mouth and said, "And that is precisely why I'm sitting here with you right now."

Kirk's eyebrows descended down to crease between his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Because we need make amends."

Kirk flopped down dramatically, back first, across McCoy's bed. Staring straight up at the ceiling, he scratched at his stomach and replied flatly, "No offense Chris, but I think I've done enough. I'm not sure what more I have to do to prove that I'm not the same selfish kid you peeled off a table in Riverside."

"Not you. Me."

Kirk raised his head. "What?"

Pike pulled Jim's wobbly chair towards the end of the bed, flipped it around and lowered himself on to it. He rested his forearms on the top of the backrest and pillowed his chin on his wrists. "I didn't like how I left things with you. We talked in the bar, but I know there was a lot more you wanted to say. Now's your chance - no ranks, no decorum, nothing. And this time, you can talk to me without napkins hanging out of your nose."

Despite the dour turn the conversation was taking, Pike's last sentence drew a chuckle from Jim. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Nope. Not when it's that hilarious I won't. Apparently, even death can't cure my wicked sense of humor."

"I'd like to give God my condolences for having to put up with you, but I'm not sure they're going to let me in." Kirk snipped back, though his face fell as the full meaning of sentence sunk in.

Pike tilted his head to the side, blue eyes softening as they often did when he offered encouragement. "Jim, despite everything you've done, all your faults, you're a good man. I saw that in you when I recruited you, and every time I defended you to the countless admirals and politicians in Starfleet, that's what I remembered. I was always proud of you, even if you added more grey to my hair than all my previous commands combined."

Kirk's jaw worked back and forth as he contemplated Pike's words. He could count on one hand the number of times he was rendered speechless; perhaps it was time to add one more instance to the list. Sucking in a deep breath, Kirk nodded his head and met his mentor's eyes. Sincerely, he said, "I wasn't always trying to be a pain in the ass, you know. It just kind of happened that way."

Pike replied by snorting out loud. "Even though you think I'm ancient and boring, I was young once, too. I know. You just had some things to learn, just like I did when I was learning how to command. I was hoping I'd be the one who would be able to teach you, but it seems like you did just fine with those lessons on your own."

"I learned, and then I died. It's kind of hard to use that shit when I'm dead."

"Well, I can't help you with that, even if I wanted to. I'm still working my way around the afterlife myself. How the hell anyone finds their way around this place is beyond me. Give me a star chart and a billion light years of space and I'm fine. But this? Fuck," Pike swore as he stood from the chair. He made his way towards the door of the room but turned before he actually got to the exit. "You know, right before I died, I told you that you weren't ready to be a captain because you didn't respect the chair and its responsibilities."

"Yeah, you were right about that," Kirk agreed.

"You're ready now," Pike said with a nod of his head as he stepped through the door.

Kirk reached up one hand to tell Pike to wait, to explain further, but instead the room dissolved around him into a curtain of black. Voices floated above his head, sounds and smells swirled through his brain. Confusion enveloped him until he heard curt, formal tones mixing in with a second, deeper and much more accented voice.

Spock.

Bones.

And then nothing.

When Jim clawed his way back to consciousness, he felt the coolness of the bed sheets against his skin. The smell of antiseptic clung to every molecule of air. He registered the warmth of natural light on the left side of his face as his brain began to process actual words.

Medical. A hospital. Something.

Was he alive?

How was this possible? The warp core. The radiation.  _Pike._

Something strange was happening. Kirk heard the rhythmic beeping of the bio readout he knew was probably hovering over his head, but the distinct lack of hum from the warp drives of the ship told him he wasn't on the Enterprise anymore. Taking a chance that his body would cooperate, Kirk pried his eyelids open. His eyes were treated to a whitewash of nothing, like he'd been staring into the sun for too long. Maybe blindness was a side effect of the radiation, but after a couple of blinks he realized that he was staring at the back of a white Starfleet uniform.

Jim's gaze lazily crawled up the torso of the medical professional in front of him, stopping when they finally reached the man's face. McCoy, in all his pouty glory, stood in front of Kirk wearing an expression of equal parts exasperation and relief.

Kirk blinked hard and tried to move his fuzzy, swollen tongue to form words.

McCoy's mouth turned down farther into his trademark scowl. He crossed his arms over his chest, rolled his eyes, pursed his lips and said, "Stop being so melodramatic. You were barely dead."

If he'd had the energy, Kirk would have laughed. Instead, he settled on thinking, ' _Some things never change_ ,' before he drifted back off to sleep.

And yet, some things did.

People did.

 _He_  did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: McCoy and Kirk finally have that heart to heart, but it doesn't quite go the way Jim expected.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of sad about this. I am. I truly do think this is probably the last canon!AOS 'Trek story I'll ever write because I literally cannot do this to my brain anymore. Seriously, you guys have no idea how hard it was for me not to simply say 'eff it' and write my characterizations of the 'Trek characters into this story instead of the miserably OOC and trope-ish caricatures we got from Into Failure. The writers were trying to force square pegs into round holes. My brain just can't do it, Captain, because I don't have the power. ;)
> 
> So to keep from going crazy (crazier) as I wrote this last chapter, I entertained myself with the mental image of Ricardo Montalban up in heaven, channeling his best William Shatner impression as he yells, "AAABBBRRRAAAMMMSSSS!" Yanno, because he deserves to, after what Bad Robot did to his (and I absolutely mean that - the real Khan will always belong to Montalban) great character. Here is the last chapter of Say Goodnight.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope. Most definitely not mine! No money is made; I just do this for enjoyment (and to attempt to fix a teeny bit of the mother of all cock-ups that was Into Failure).

 

**Chapter 3**

Jim Kirk learned in the infancy of his friendship with one Leonard H. McCoy, MD, PhD, and foul-mouthed SOB, that the man very much valued his own personal space. It was a bit of a revelation to Jim, especially considering the fact McCoy offered up the Cliff's Notes version of his life's story five whole seconds into their initial meeting. Clearly, Jim remembered musing on that shuttle ride from Iowa, what Bones needed was a friend.

(And to get over his irrational fear of space, his burgeoning alcoholism and his ever-present paranoia over rejection and just about  _everything_  else, but those were different matters entirely.)

He especially needed a friend who was the polar opposite on just about every end of the spectrum from himself. Kirk thought he fit that bill nicely, and his ability to keep up with Bones shot for shot? Well, that was just a bonus.

One hack of the housing database to assign himself as McCoy's roommate later, Jim was in business. From comms to PADDs to booze and everything in between, nothing was off limits. It was a game for the two men and they both knew it; digging for new buttons to push and ways to piss each other off was how they staved off boredom and blew off steam. By the end of their second year, Jim lost count of how many times and in how many different ways McCoy threatened his physical or mental well being and Kirk was sure Bones lost count of how many times Jim did something on purpose just to piss the older man off.

Fast forward two years and a couple of massive crises later, it wasn't his own well being that was keeping Kirk awake at night, at least not this time. And that worry, that niggle clawing away at the back of his conscience, was the very reason he was sitting in the CMO's decimated quarters at oh-dark-thirty. As much as he needed to talk to Bones about his...experiences (Jim absolutely  _refused_  to call it an interaction with the dead because that would have contradicted everything he believed), he also wanted to check up on his best friend. Bones, for as much as he cared about others, wasn't that great when it came to taking for himself. Everyone knew it, but Kirk was the only one with enough balls to call the doctor on it.

Jim sighed, exhaling a long, loud breath into the empty space that comprised McCoy's quarters. He was alone; Bones' comm rang shortly after Kirk finished his narrative. Out of casual habit, Jim picked up the buzzing device from the table and nearly flipped it open, stopping just short of answering it when he saw the caller's ID. He exchanged a grim look with his friend and silently handed the comm over. McCoy glanced at the screen, cursed and disappeared into his bedroom to update his boss on the various statuses of the patients from the Vengeance's attack.

Normally, Jim would be bothered that McCoy felt such a need for secrecy. But this time was different (there had been a lot of those instances recently) and Kirk respected Phillip Boyce's privacy enough not to pry. The placard on his office door might proclaim Boyce as Starfleet's surgeon general, but he was also the closest thing Chris has -  _had_ , Jim corrected himself - to a family. Kirk didn't want to make Boyce choose which he had to be when he spoke with McCoy - the surgeon general, or the grieving friend. Given Bones' distinct advantage of his deep friendships with both men, McCoy was one of the few people left on the planet with whom Phil could be open and honest about his relationship with Chris. Jim simply hoped one of the doctors was smart enough to exploit that tiny fact during the healing process.

Jim yawned loudly in the armchair, cracking his neck back and forth in the process. If he tipped his head to the side, he could hear Bones' low tones wafting from the bedroom. Kirk checked the chrono on the wall - McCoy's call with Boyce had been going for almost a half hour. Restless but unwilling to interrupt, Kirk stood and stretched his legs and back. His eyes wandered around the room, stopping at the pile of PADDs the doctor haphazardly relegated to the floor earlier in the evening. Searched for something to occupy his mind while he waited, Jim snagged the top device from the pile. Hopeful it still worked well enough for him to download a game to play, Kirk returned to his chair, flipped it on and poked around.

It was McCoy's personal PADD. Duty roster - boring, his own medical chart -  _really_  boring though probably kind of weird, and one  _After Action Recommendation - James T. Kirk_ ' blinking innocently from the open digital mailbox. Jim started blankly at the header of the message, trying valiantly to stamp down the unease bubbling in the middle of his chest. In his brief time as captain of the Enterprise, Jim learned that any kind of formality in writing usually meant he wasn't going to be particularly fond of what came next. But, on the other hand, he needed to know. Kirk took about three seconds to contemplate his options before he clicked on the draft, steeling himself to see in black and white the narrative to Command that would probably end his career.

' _For extraordinary courage and heroic conduct above and beyond the call of duty as Captain of the USS Enterprise, Primary Fleet, in action against the rogue ship Vengeance and wanted criminal Khan Noonien Singh over Earth, on stardate 2259. With the Enterprise, powerless, spiraling towards a certain and catastrophic collision with a heavily populated area of Earth, Captain Kirk, having donned only minimal protection, entered the radioactive warp core chamber at great peril to his own safety and well being in an attempt to restore the ship's propulsion. Once inside, Captain Kirk discovered the cores were completely misaligned, and again without regard to his own health, physically pushed them back together to re-establish the connection. His efforts enabled the crew of the Enterprise to deploy thrusters and slow the ship's descent through the atmosphere, thereby averting certain disaster. His great personal valor while exposed to nearly fatal levels of radiation, combined with his indomitable fighting spirit both inspired and saved his crew as well as countless others on the ground. His gallantry and intrepidly throughout his ordeal reflects the highest credit upon Captain Kirk and that of Starfleet_.'

Kirk gently set the PADD down on the table in front of him, cursing the sudden tremble that sprung up in his fingers. Biting his lip, Jim's eyebrows creased at the bridge of his nose as he sucked in a deep, calming breath.

Bones wrote him a citation for valor?

The  _fuck_?

"You weren't meant to see that, Jim."

Kirk's head snapped up. He was so engrossed in the report that he hadn't even heard McCoy enter the room. Evenly, he said, "Done with that call with Boyce?"

"Yeah," McCoy said, trouble and worry washing at once over his face.

"How is he?"

"Do you want the truth, or should I bullshit you?" the doctor asked, exhaling a long sigh.

"I can handle it," Kirk answered, glad for the temporary reprieve.

"He's a damned mess. Trying like hell to hold it together for the rest of us, but he's not coping at all."

"That sounds an awful lot like someone else I know," Jim replied, shooting a knowing glare at McCoy.

The doctor pursed his lips. "Jim," he warned lowly. "Not now."

Like Boyce, Kirk knew McCoy was doing his level best to maintain a professional facade. But the extra breath the surgeon took at the end of his sentence and the way his eyebrows darted into the center of his face as he literally bit his tongue until it bled might as well have been a flashing neon sign, announcing to the world McCoy was a heartbeat away from a massive meltdown. Gently but firmly, Jim said, "Maybe not now, but soon."

McCoy shifted uncomfortably and nodded stiffly, swallowing hard as silence once again enveloped the room. He reached out and gently slid the PADD towards himself. He flipped it on, scrolled through the message and re-saved the draft. Peering at at Kirk over the top of the device, McCoy said, "I thought you would have deleted that."

With a passive shrug of his shoulders, Jim met his best friend's eyes and replied, "I have no reason to. If you want to write me a citation, then that's your prerogative. I'm not going to stop you. But I have to be be honest. I thought you'd be writing a letter to Command asking them to boot me out on my ass as fast as they possibly could."

McCoy scoffed loudly. "I didn't see any reason to do that, seein' as you saved all our asses. Besides, with all the regulations I've broken in my time, I would have been right there with you."

"And then we'd both be up shit creek without a paddle," Kirk chuckled out mirthlessly as he tipped his head back into the cushions of the couch. "Fuck me," he muttered under his breath while he swiped a hand across his eyes. Without moving his hand, he tilted his entire face towards McCoy and asked, "Why, Bones?"

"Why, what?" the doctor questioned.

"Why are you putting me up for a commendation in the first place?"

"Because you deserve it," McCoy insisted firmly as he stared at Kirk with open shock evident all over his face. There wasn't a singular attributable label for his look, but it was almost as if he couldn't understand why Jim was questioning his motives."Jim, you crawled, unprotected, into the Jefferies and kicked the warp core back in place. You knew it would kill you but you did it anyway. I figured a citation for bravery was the least we could do."

"We? Who's the 'we' in this, Bones?" Kirk asked, steamrolling straight past the 'what' and 'where' and zeroing right in on the 'who'.

"Goddammit," the surgeon muttered, mentally kicking himself for the verbal gaffe. "Spock sent it to me to review to make sure everything in that citation jived with the bullshit version of events we gave to Command in the official report."

"Spock? Spock is lying now?" Jim asked, openly shocked. "What the hell did you the two of you tell them, Bones?"

"Not a lot of the truth, that's for damned sure. We were hoping you'd wake up before we had to file the official report so we could all get our stories straight, but per your pain in the ass usual, you didn't follow the plan. And I couldn't very well tell them you  _actually_ died, so we made something up," McCoy growled out, disdain hanging on every single word.

Kirk remained silent as his brain processed all the ramifications of Spock and McCoy's actions. If Starfleet Command ever figured out the two remaining senior officers aboard the Federation flagship lied their way through an official report...Jim shuddered to think what might happen. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he stared McCoy down. "And that was the best thing the two of you could think to do, Doctor?"

"We didn't have much of a choice. You and I both know that Marcus wasn't the only person in the Admiralty with their fingers in that Blackwater program. There had to be more. You don't get that kind of funding and clearance to build an entire fucking ship without more than one man at the helm, and I'm not about to find out what other raving lunatics this outfit employs," McCoy said, his scowl deepening with every word that passed his lips.

Kirk's brain filled in the blanks. "And with what you found, there's no way you can risk putting that kind of information in a report."

"Damned straight. I'm done pokin' the hornets' nest."

' _And maybe that famous McCoy cynicism is finally going to prove useful_ ,' Kirk thought to himself. For once, though emotional to a fault, Bones was right in following his heart. Out loud, Jim admitted after a pregnant pause, "You guys did too much for me."

"No, we did what you would have done."

Kirk chuckled mirthlessly, the self-depreciating sound coming from somewhere in his chest as McCoy's words rang hollowly in his ears. "You mean risk my life, my ship and the lives of everyone under my command on a stupid quest for revenge? Or should I have to choose between my first officer and the prime directive? Because Bones, let me tell you, I am not a role model for you guys to look after. Believe me."

"Really," the doctor began sarcastically. "Are you trying to make a liar out of Pike now, too?"

"What?" Kirk gasped out.

"You heard me. Are you really trying to tell me Chris was wrong about you? Because he sure as hell believed in you. Believed in you enough to go to bat for you with Marcus after they wanted to ship you back to the Academy," McCoy replied sternly, eyes steely with his arms crossed over his chest. "Believed in you enough to give you a second, third and fourth chance."

"You heard about that? How?" Kirk asked, shivering as a cold shock of unease ran up his spine.

"Boyce," McCoy answered with a twitch of his eyebrows. "Man needed someone to bitch to. I was a good candidate, seeing how I know you both so well."

"He had no right to tell you that," Kirk spat out, choking on his earlier wish that Phil would use McCoy as a sounding board.

"And why do you care, Jim? Aren't you happy about that? I'm sure they'll give you another crack at the Enterprise after all this," McCoy said, a bit of bitterness coming from his tone as he thought about the second chance Kirk got that Pike wasn't afforded.

Kirk's expression lit up, anger, frustration, embarrassment and desperation all warring for a bit of real estate on his face. Passionately, Jim insisted, "Yes, but not like that! Do you really think I'm that coldhearted, Bones? Dude, not cool."

"That's not what I said, Jim."

Kirk took a deep breath, concentrating on steadying his emotions and slowing his breathing. "I know," he admitted finally. Licking his lips, he looked McCoy in the eye and said earnestly, "You're right about that, you know. About Pike. I don't know why, but he always thought I'd be something."

"I think he was right," McCoy said succinctly. "Though I think you tested his better judgement from time to time."

Jim closed his eyes as a sense of deja vu washed over him. He could hear Pike's smooth but irritated baritone in his mind. ' _Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass you are?_ ' Chris asked him. Smiling sadly, he said, "You know, when Pike was yelling at me for that whole Nibiru cluster, he told me the same thing, just in not so many words."

McCoy sat, silent and perfectly still as he waited for Kirk to continue.

"I think," Jim began after a good bit of hesitation, "I did what I did because I didn't want to admit that I lost my friend for nothing. Because that's really what it was - nothing. Khan didn't have a beef with any of us; we were all just a means to an end. It was a game to him, and he played me from front to back."

"He played us all, Jim. Marcus included."

"Yeah," Kirk said in a near whisper. Sucking in a breath, Jim asked the doctor, "Bones, can I ask you a personal question?"

McCoy snorted. " _Now_  you're asking for permission?" he choked out incredulously, face falling when he realized Jim wasn't exactly in the joking kind of mood.

"How did you move on when your dad...died?" Kirk asked, not quite knowing how to delicately phrase the circumstances surrounding David McCoy's passing.

The doctor clenched his jaw. His chin dipped against his chest as he let out a long breath, saying nothing.

Jim shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked that," he said, taking McCoy's hesitation for a reluctance to answer.

"It's okay, Jim. 'Bout time I probably talked about this, Might as well be now," McCoy rumbled as he spun the ring on his pinky finger nervously around the digit.

Kirk licked his lips, feeling the awkward tension spike in the room. "You don't have to. I mean, it's fine. I get it - it's personal."

"It is personal, but not so much that I can't talk about it," McCoy replied. He stopped, shook his head and rolled his eyes, adding, "For God sake, I ain't gonna break talkin' about this now. Let that breath out you're holding in before you turn blue and pass out on my floor."

"Are you sure?"

"'O course I'm sure, though not that that makes this any easier. Besides, would I lie to you?"

Kirk lifted an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"You don't need to. I already know what you're going to say." McCoy lifted his eyes and searched out the random patterns left by the scorch marks on his ceiling. "Now to answer your question, I didn't. I didn't move on. Instead, I drank. A lot. Destroyed my marriage, lost my daughter in the process. You know that was the beginning of the end - you heard the fallout between me and Joce."

"Yep. I thought I'd heard it all with my mom and Frank. I was wrong. Man, there were times I was actually afraid for both of you, even if you were separated by a few thousand miles."

McCoy shifted, cringing, while he fidgeting with the PADD Kirk left on the table. "She didn't trust me, and for good reason. I suppose that's the reason I didn't trust anyone else, let alone myself. I was too busy hating myself for what I did. I thought I'd wash out of this place within the first semester and get what I deserved." He turned the device over, spinning it on opposite corners against his fingers.

"For once, I really don't understand what you're trying to tell me," Kirk said.

McCoy cocked a weary smile. "Jim, you've been through a lot. I don't have to tell you that. But I also know what an impatient little punk you are."

Kirk was indignant. "I am-"

McCoy waved his hand and pursed his lips, staring at his best friend with his most potent ' _You might be the captain but I'm still your doctor, so don't fuck with me right now_ ' stare.

Jim's posture deflated, effectively conceding defeat. "-sometimes really good at rushing headlong into things."

The doctor nodded, satisfied. "And I'm trying to tell you to slow down and let it come to you, just this time. You wanted to know what I learned from my father's...death?" McCoy began, his voice catching in his throat on the actual word.

"Yeah."

"What you're looking for right now - that perfect solution to get rid of what you're feeling - it doesn't exist. Just like I'll always carry my regrets with me, you'll always have yours. But I can tell you that you should learn from my mistakes. You saw what I did. Nothing good comes of it."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Be thankful, and above all, learn from it," McCoy answered instantly. "You have another opportunity to do what Chris won't be able to try. Don't waste that chance."

Kirk flinched when he saw a flicker of pain cross McCoy's face on the last part of his sentence. While Jim had a special relationship with Pike, he was also acutely aware of the bond the older man formed with the oft-troubled doctor. Part of his shame was knowing his actions to avenge Chris' death were uniquely self-serving. Meanwhile, there were other people around him hurting just as much that he conveniently ignored in favor of his own agenda. Honestly, he told McCoy, "I don't even know where to start. There aren't enough ways I can ever say thank you for what you guys did."

"You don't have to thank us. I think your damned fool move jumpin' into the core without any protection was a pretty good example of putting your money where your mouth is," the surgeon replied gruffly. When Kirk didn't respond or even move, McCoy added seriously, "You did enough, Jim. You really did."

Shaking his head, Kirk held up a hand. "No, it wasn't. What I did with the warp core? That was my penance for being a selfish, egotistical bastard, not a thank you."

McCoy leaned forward in his chair and interlaced his fingers. Pillowing his chin on his hands, he said, "Jim, you need to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Stop actin' like a moron and quit blaming yourself for all of this. Yes, you had a part in it, and yes, you made mistakes. But you can't change what you did, just like I can't change what I did with my dad," McCoy told Jim firmly. Raising an eyebrow, he lightened his tone and added, "And before you deny that you're not, don't bother. Your lip is twitching in that way it always does when you're lying."

Kirk chuckled, shaking his head at McCoy's blunt but effective delivery as he conceded defeat on his tell. "I'm a little surprised that this is all coming from you, Doctor Doom and Gloom."

"You asked. I have experience," McCoy replied with a passive shrug of his broad shoulders.

Kirk nibbled away at the corner of lip and nodded, face resolute for the first time since setting foot inside his friend's quarters. "Okay, fair enough. Where did you start? Where should I start?"

"By taking it one day at a time."

Jim nodded. He could do that.

One day at a time.

**-FIN-**


End file.
